


Sugary☆Miasma

by emperyal_miasma



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Stripper AU, more to be added soon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 18:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12216780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emperyal_miasma/pseuds/emperyal_miasma
Summary: ☆ Cinder is a Morti with a forgotten past, a missing Raena, and a desperation for a life worth living. Everyday is the same, over and over, with no end in sight. There has to be something beyond her gilded cage; something that will help her remember what kind of Morti she is and unite her with the Raena she's never known. ☆(Wrote this because I can't sleep and this idea has been sitting in the back of my brain for awhile. Tags and stuff will be updated as I post more chapters, and I'm hoping to include some crossover with my other fanfics.)





	Sugary☆Miasma

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a prologue but it's almost chapter length so...idk. More details and things will be in the next chapter - thanks for reading! ♡

☆

_ Feed me with a silver spoon _

_ Oh, can you make it nice now _

_ Triple-X me and you _

_ Rushing free, _

_ Passion-aah! _

 

It was all bright lights, throbbing bass, and delighted cheers. Reminiscent of dancing in a drug-fueled kaleidoscope surrounding by wailing ghosts. That description didn’t even make sense but it didn’t matter. If the thoughts floating around the emptiness of her skull didn’t pertain to her work they didn’t matter.  _ She  _ didn’t even matter if she wasn’t working, and it was dangerous to let her mind wander because if she made a mistake and marred her perfect routine there would be hell to pay. Like she would  _ literally  _ have to answer to the devil herself. 

 

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Be sweet like sugar-ah _

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Treat me forever-ah. _

 

Despite knowing she had to focus, she slipped into autopilot and let her body go through the motions. It was all just rote memory at this point - she could do this dance in her sleep or even a coma after having done it so many times. Over and over and over like a ballerina in a music box. The only thing keeping her grounded to reality was the pole gripped in her hands as she spun and spun. Everything smeared together like oil paints and the music and tasteless yelling slurred into white noise.

 

_ Sugar, like sugar _

_ Like sugar, like sugar _

 

She slid down the warm metal and felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. It hurt a little but it wasn’t enough to derail her and it was probably just hunger, or an ulcer. Her eyes scanned the crowd in search of her regulars but didn’t find any. She wanted to believe that maybe she could have an easy night but the devil wouldn’t let her. Had to keep the cash flowing in...or she wouldn’t be useful anymore. And if she wasn’t useful to the company then she was garbage in need of being disposed. 

 

_ Coat me in kisses, in kisses, in kisses _

_ I’ll do whatever you want me to do _

 

Her set was almost over when she heard sounds of a commotion over the music. From what she could tell the audience was too enraptured with her dance (and body, who the hell was she kidding?) to notice anything happening behind them. It took minimal effort to maintain her expression and routine and she kept putting on a show even though she was intently focusing on whatever the hell was going down just outside the entrance to the club. Were those screams? And gunshots?

 

_ Coat me in kisses, in kisses, in kisses _

_ I’ll do whatever you want me to do  _

 

A group of very panicked, very terrified looking people suddenly spilled into the showroom, ushered in by a pair of the bouncers. At this point a few of the patrons realized something was off and were twisting in their seats to see what was interfering with their entertainment. She was almost done so she didn’t care - she had already earned what she needed to avoid being reprimanded so at this point everyone in the audience could die and she wouldn’t care. Honestly she just wished her stomach would stop  _ hurting _ , what the hell was its problem? And who the hell was  _ that _ ?

 

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Be sweet like sugar-ah _

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Treat me forever-ah. _

 

Someone new had slipped past the bouncers and was visibly trying not to appear totally out of place. Someone that wasn’t one of the regulars, someone that seemed almost comically uncomfortable at their surroundings. Someone that she wanted to see in proper lighting. 

 

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Be sweet like sugar-ah _

_ Ooh-la-la-ah, _

_ Treat me forever-ah. _

 

The music stopped and she simpered like she wasn’t tired or humiliated at all - like this was the  _ best _ , most  _ rewarding _ path her life could have  _ possibly  _ taken! She blew a kiss to no particular patron and sauntered off the stage to much cheering and clapping. The second she was safely behind the backdrop her knees buckled and she hit the floor grasping her stomach. Was she dying? Oh  _ please _ let her be dying!

 

“Cinder? You okay? What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know - I don’t know, my stomach,” she wheezed and tried to keep from doubling over in pain. It felt like someone was taking a blade and repeatedly stabbing her midsection. Jabbing and stabbing over, and over, and - 

 

“Miami! Come help me get her up!”

 

It took two other Morticias to lift her to her feet and keep her steady all the way back to the dressing room. She fell heavily into her chair and buried her head in her hands. Her fellow dancers paused in their primping and gossip to cast confused glances at her. She felt hands stroking through her hair and heard reassurances that she would be okay but it all seemed so far away. Was she disassociating? She had to be.

 

“Here Cinder. I got some pain killers and water, these should help!”

 

“Pain killers? Where did you get pain killers, Miami?”

 

“Chill Peony - they're generic over the counter pills. Y’know, the stuff we're actually allowed to have.”

 

“Oh! I forgot we had those.”

 

“Flower Morti, ladies and gentlemen! The smartest of the Morticias!”

 

Miami Morti snickered as she handed over the medicine and water bottle to her fellow dancer. Cinder sat up enough to take the pills and drain half the bottle before slumping onto her vanity again. She wasn't due back on stage for a bit and hopefully by that time she would either feel better or be dead. Both were okay options for her.

 

There had been a time when she was desperate to stay alive and fighting for every minute but that was over two years ago. Back when she was always struggling for money and a place to sleep and a bit of food to keep herself from keeling over. Back when she was in such dire straits that she would have accepted  _ any  _ offer for stable income - and she did. Too bad it wasn't a job she could quit.

 

“You gonna be okay Cin?” Miami asked, crystal blue eyes wide in worry and blonde bangs falling into her face. 

 

“I'll be fine, I promise. You're up soon so you better go, unless you want a reprimand,” Cinder answered with the warmest smile she could manage. Miami rolled her eyes and tossed a sheath of hair over her shoulder in a huff.

 

“Ugh. Don't remind me! Alright, I'll see you guys back at the house - pretty sure I'm booked for the night.”

 

Cinder and Peony waved goodbye as their friend/alternate version of theirself dashed away as fast as her stilettos would allow. 

 

“Well, I have my own appointment I gotta keep, sadly,” Peony sighed and scrunched up her face in melancholy. The myriad of flowers rooted in her scalp and strewn through her mahogany hair wilted for a moment, and then perked back up when she smiled again. 

 

“With who?”

 

“Um, I-I think it’s with that uh, Wolf Rick. Haven’t seen him in a while but I mean he’s not  _ too  _ bad. He’s actually pretty cute! It’s just the uh...um…”

 

“The giant wolf penis?”

 

“The giant wolf penis,” Peony spluttered and knocked her fist gently against her forehead in exasperation. Cinder swallowed a chuckle and immediately felt bad for her friend. She gently squeezed her bare shoulder and nodded in sympathy as Peony gathered her strength and patience. 

 

Cinder opened her mouth to offer some words of encouragement (and probably some sort of snarky comment) when she was stopped by a loud greeting that made her insides turn to ice.

 

“ _ There _ she is! Little Cinderella! Sweet little Cinderella Bella!”

 

Cinder grimaced and forced herself to put on her best, bubbly smile before turning in her seat.

 

“Hi Miss Raena!  _ So  _ happy to see you tonight,” she simpered and tried to ignore the blades relentlessly poking the inside of her stomach. 

 

The owner and manager of the club was a Raena Sanchez - but was of the ‘Tiny’ variety which really just meant she looked as young as the Mortis did and was just a little bit shorter than the average Raena. She wore her bright teal hair in a short, carefully styled, shaggy mess and she was always impeccably dressed in dress shirts, ink-black slacks, and sometimes ties or expensive suspenders. That night she had donned an all-black ensemble with her shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Her tattoo sleeves seemed to shimmer in the light and Cinder found herself staring at them, entranced, as always. 

 

“Of course you are! It’s me,” Raena agreed with that trademark shit-eating grin spreading across her face. Cinder felt her right eye twitch in irritation but thankfully it went unnoticed. “Anyway, I need to speak to you about some uh, business matters.” She glared pointedly at Peony who stared into space, unaware and not paying a bit of attention. Cinder quickly elbowed her in the ribs.

 

“Oh! Business matters! Haha, ah geez, yeah! L-let me uh...just mosey on out of here!” Peony said and awkwardly chuckled. Raena’s glare intensified and didn’t vanish until the Flower Morticia skittered away like a spider across a hot stovetop. Cinder watched her go with a small affectionate smile until an impatient cough drew her attention away.

 

“S-so, business matters?” she stuttered and took the water bottle in her hands. She needed something to dig her fingernails into because her insides were still getting pecked to shit by some kind of intestinal bird. 

 

“Indeed. I got a little job opportunity for you, if you’re interested in earning some extra money,” Raena explained, voice low to keep the other Mortis from eavesdropping. That awful, manipulative glint was twinkling in her sapphire eyes and it made the pain in Cinder’s stomach worse.

 

“U-u-um...w-what exactly do you need done?”

 

“I don’t need anything  _ done,  _ per say. Just have a little meeting I need to attend at the Citadel of Raenas and I’d like to have some company. You know how we are - we always look better with a Morti on our arm.”

 

Cinder averted her gaze down to the water bottle peppered with the indents of her nails. She knew exactly how Raenas were; possessive and petty and insufferably vain. They always seemed to have competitions amongst themselves to have the best Morticia, even if they were just brainwave-canceling human shields. Honestly being paraded around the Citadel for an afternoon sounded infinitely preferable to working, but…

 

“What’s the issue, Cinderella? Don’t want to be my princess for a day?” Raena murmured and Cinder knew from experience that her words weren’t meant to be cute. They were a thinly veiled warning to match the malicious glimmer in her eyes. 

 

“W-what about m-m-my appointments? I-I don’t want to make you lose any money.”

 

“I’ll handle your schedule. And you can worry about paying me back later, with interest, of course.”

 

Raena’s voice was a quiet purr in her ear and goosebumps rippled across her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as Raena pressed kisses to the side of her neck and ghosted her fingers from her knee up her thigh. Cinder knew better than to refuse the offer. In retrospect she didn’t really even have a choice - Raena would make her every waking minute a living nightmare if she even tried. You didn’t say no to the devil unless you had a deathwish.

 

“Yes ma’am,” she answered softly and she felt Raena’s lips curve into a smile against her skin. 

 

“Wonderful. You’re such a darling, my little princess. No wonder you’re so popular among the clientele,” Raena remarked and gently stroked her bangs back from her eyes. “Now go change and get ready for your next performance; we’ve got a packed house tonight!”

 

Cinder tried to ask about what the hell that commotion was during her last set but Raena immediately left to tend to her duties for the night. She puffed a sigh and returned to laying her head down on her vanity. ignoring everything going on around her. In a few minutes she would force herself to get up and freshen up her makeup and go change into a different stupid, flashy outfit. But for now she would rest and try to keep her head above water - try not to drown from being overwhelmed.

 

Everyday was the same, everyday was a monotonous tune set on repeat. She just spun around the pole the same way she lived - going round and round like an off-kilter carousel with no end in sight. She was only a Morti but there had to be more to life and she was tired of being so pathetic and cliche about it.

 

“Cinder! You got 20 minutes!”

 

“Be right there!” she called and forced herself to step back onto the carousel.

 

☆  
  



End file.
